I Caught Fire
by Mrs.Monster
Summary: They fought when secrets overlapped and lies were called out. They both realized that there were things that both of them were hiding and neither of them were willing to come completely clean. Drabble set post S7 Supernatural, post S2 Sherlock.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural or Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a "drabble". It's just so... short, but I've had a scene in here in my head since forever. I may continue this one day, using this drabble as a prologue, who knows? What do you think I should do with it? Leave it as-is, continue it- kill it with fire? **

**I Caught Fire**

They had first met when the Winchester's went international. Sam and Dean had flown to Scotland to find Crowley's bones, Molly Hooper had been there visiting an elderly aunt from her father's side. They'd been grabbing a bite to eat, Dean tracking down a burger joint because he didn't trust any of the small restaurants not to serve him sheep's stomach or something like that, no matter how many times Sam tried to assure him they wouldn't unless he ordered it.

Molly had been sitting on her own, chewing absently on small bites of a chicken sandwich when Sam had bumped into her table, sending her soda flying and spilling all over. He tripped over himself trying to apologize and help dry her off, Molly assuring him that it was all right before patting his arm and slipping from the brightly lit fast food restaurant.

Sam didn't think of her for another year or so. Everything had fallen apart- Dean and Cas were in Purgatory, Bobby was dead and long gone and Sam, he was just _done_. With all of it. The hunting, the monsters. He'd already lost everything that had ever mattered to him. Sam was beyond caring about the rest of the world.

Until he nearly hit a girl with his brother's car. Sam was driving through Nevada on some little used highway when a roadside motel caught his eye and he didn't even notice that the car was drifting until it was almost too late. Her shout snapped his attention back to the road and Sam jerked the wheel, spinning the tires and missing her at the very last moment. He'd drifted right into the parking lot of the motel and immediately knew that he'd pushed himself too far again. Too long without sleep or rest, and he was approaching a stupor.

A plastic bucket of ice was spilled on the cracked pavement and the girl's long reddish brown hair had slipped over her face where she had dropped into an instinctive crouch a few feet from his fender. Slowly she straightened up, body visibly shaking, her hair fell away and something twinged in Sam's memory.

"Wait- don't I know you from somewhere?"

…

Molly rode with Sam to a near-by Waffle House and he listened to an obviously made up story about why she was in Nevada over stacks of waffles covered with blueberry syrup. Sam didn't particularly care about much of anything anymore, so as long as she wasn't some demon that'd finally caught up with him, or hadn't stalked him from the UK, she could do what she wanted. Molly told him that she wasn't really from Scotland, either, but London and Sam found it hard to explain that he wasn't really from anywhere. He ended up telling her that he grew up in Kansas but traveled with his brother selling hunting gear for most of his adult life. If she was suspicious, she didn't show it.

After all of the food was gone, he took her back to the motel and got a room for himself, intending to sleep for twelve solid hours before moving on.

Sam ended up staying much longer.

…

It really started with a few bottles of beer shared between them after Sam woke from his mini-coma, feeling better. He was in the Impala when Molly stuck her head out of her own room and waved him over. Sam hesitated, but he _had _almost killed the girl with his car, and no matter how strange the circumstances, she was a mildly familiar face.

They sat at the small table in her room and shared a six pack, easing into conversation about families, growing up, future plans- completely made up on Sam's end except for when he talked about losing his mother as a baby, raised by his father who died when Sam was in his early twenties and finally losing his brother a few months before meeting Molly for a second time. Molly squeezed his hand before telling him about how she lost her own parents- cancer for her father, car accident for her mother. About medical school and her somewhat short-lived career as a forensic pathologist before circumstances brought her here, where she met Sam for a second time. Sam stayed a another night in an adjoining room, then a third.

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her when her voice went raspy and thick while telling him that she'd, for all intents and purposes, followed a man to the States. A brilliant man that she'd been head over heels for, who found himself in trouble and eventually died because of it. About how she tried to help, but she was always one step behind, no matter what she did. That was something that Sam could understand, and when something in his mind screamed at him to stop her tears, to _distract _her, to comfort her, he crushed his mouth to hers and after that they only needed one room.

…

They were together in that same room at that roadside motel in Nevada for three months. Sam and Molly ate cheap diner food, shared six packs of good beer in glass bottles and lost themselves in each other every night. Neither of them really ever offered information that wasn't needed and after three months they packed their things into the back seat of the Impala and moved on, eventually renting a small one-bedroom apartment in Iowa where Sam worked for the landlord as a maintenance man and Molly did office work at a local doctor's office. She told Sam that she just couldn't go back to what she did before. The burning curiosity and fascination she'd had for her work had been sucked out of her and Sam didn't argue.

They fought when secrets overlapped and lies were called out. They both realized that there were things that both of them were hiding and neither of them were willing to come completely clean.

Sam and Molly's apartment was small but comfortable, furnished with things they'd picked up at yard sales and second-hand shops. A tiny TV sat on an old steamer trunk in front of a tan and brown plaid sofa in the living room that melted into the kitchen with a table and two chairs, mismatched dishes and scarred counter-tops. The bathroom was connected to their bedroom where they had a double bed fitted with a comforter and sheets they'd stolen from the motel in Nevada.

Molly was used to Sam having nightmares, talking in his sleep about all manner of things that she didn't understand. He almost always woke her up, but she usually let him ride it out, occasionally wrapping herself around his large frame and soothing him as best she could until her settled back into a peaceful sleep. Whatever was haunting him that night however was bad enough to have Sam thrashing around in their bed and Molly had no choice but to shake him awake and pull him away from whatever was screaming through his mind.

Sam came to with a gasp and a wild look in Molly's direction before bolting out of the bed and losing the dinner he made them into the toilet. She sat up quickly on the side of the bed, watching him warily through the open bathroom door, not really knowing what to do to help him. The water in the sink came on as Sam retrieved his toothbrush and cleaned his teeth.

"Sam, I-" Molly began when he walked back into the bedroom, but she cut herself off when he lowered himself to his knees in front of where she was sitting on the bed. His head dropped into her lap and not knowing what else to do, Molly ran her fingers through his long hair, scratching blunt nails along his scalp. When Sam spoke, his voice was rough, like he'd swallowed gravel instead of water.

"You were pregnant. I came to bed late and found you on the ceiling, bleeding and surrounded by fire." His voice caught, choked, stuttered and his entire body shook with it. This must have been what he was dreaming about, Molly thought. "And the baby was- it was-" Sam cut himself off and his arms came around her back and he pressed his face into her belly, the stubble on his chin scratching through the white, silky material of her nightgown.

Molly hugged him to her, and didn't know what to say. She thought of earlier that day, coming home on her lunch break and the plastic stick with the little blue plus sign that was now buried in the bathroom trash. And she still didn't know what to say.


End file.
